A Glimpse Of The Past
by sketz
Summary: There's a theory about why vampires can't see themselves. If you don't have a soul, you don't have a reflection. So, since Spike has a soul...if you get it...you wil read this story. read and review please!


disclaimer!!!- I own none of this character or this soul plot. The only thing I own is the reflection part of the soul plot.

A Glimpse Of The Past

He sat on the floor of the hotel rocking back and forth. It had been at least 5 days since he had returned from Africa, and he was still startled by the fact that he had a soul. Tears streamed down from his blue eyes as he buried his face in his folded arms. He didn't think it would be like this, so much pain came rushing at him in overwhelming amounts. All those people he had killed, tortured...loved. It only occured to him at this moment that he went and got his soul for a reason. He wanted to hurt Buffy and get the chip out of his head, but he knew inside, that maybe, just maybe, if he got his soul returned to him...he'd get Buffy to love him.

He was probably wrong. She would never forgive him for the things he'd done. The thoughts and feeling welled up inside of him and he let another torrent of tears pour out of his eyes. He didn't think it was possible he could even cry since he was a vampire, but it was. He should've been in Sunnydale at least a day or two ago, but because of the constant breakdowns, he had needed to stop alot along the way. Amidst all of the thoughts he was having, amidst all of the voices that were screaming in his head, one came out louder and clearer than the rest.

_Go look in the mirror. Hurry, this is your last chance._

He was afraid to go look in the mirror that hung in the bathroom. He was afraid of what he might see, who he might see. The tears finally stopped. He lifted up his head and laid down on the carpeted floor. The air conditioning came on in the room and he felt the dried tears get cold. He swiped at his face to wipe away the tears. It came back.

_Go look in the mirror. Hurry, this is your last chance._

It still wasn't clear. What was his last chance and why? It made him get up off of the floor and walk uneasily over to the bathroom door. He stuffed his hands into his pants pockets and stood staring into the dark bathroom. He could see as well as if he had turned the light on, so he didn't mind as he took a few cautious steps into the bathroom. He turned around and looked down, facing the drain in the sink. He closed his eyes and looked up.

_What are you? A bloody poofter? Afraid of a little suprise? C'mon you sod, open your blood eyes and look at the bleedin' mirror!_

Now the thought was his own voice. Before the soul, before the chip. It seemed agitated, just like always seemed to be back then. He smiled. It seemed like his first smile since he returned form Africa.

_You got just a few more minutes. Hurry the bloody hell up!_

He looked up into the mirror and opened his eyes. He went tense. There was someone behind him. He got ready for whatever was coming...and nothing happened. Slowly, he turned around and saw that there was no one behind him.

_What, do you not recognize your own bloody self?_

He let his mouth fall open and he flipped the light on. Sure enough in the mirror was Spike. He didn't remember what he looked like so long ago. He searched in his blue eyes that could penetrate the devil's soul and saw feeling in them, saw what used to linger behind them when he was a brown haired poet in England. He saw his soul. He saw himself.

For the first time in centuries, Spike actually saw himself. He saw his cheekbones, his blue eyes, his brown died platinum blonde hair, his lips. He never thought in all his undead life, he'd ever see himself again. All of his pictures of when he was human were long lost memories now. Nothing left of William anymore...he faded away a long time ago...but now here he was...in a small glimpse into himself, Spike saw who he once was.

_Nice isn't it? Say good bye William old boy, because that's the last you'll ever see of yourself for a while._

Then Spike protested out loud.

"Wait, I don't get to see myself anymore? What the bloody hell do I have to do to see myself again? Take a bloody picture? Why is this only temporary? What about all those cruddy movies?"

_That's the thing. You've said it yourself. Movies only tell so much of the truth. If you'd been in your right mind earlier in your little trip back to Sunnydale, you would've noticed you've had your reflection back for quite some time._

"That's not bloody fair!!!"

_That's the way things are...though, in the future...you will get filmed...though the film won't last. _

Spike paused. He cocked his head to the right and asked "What do you mean? You can see the future?" 

_For now anyways. You'll forget all of this by the time you reach Sunnydale. Don't even try to not go back there either...you'll just end up doing something worse than everything you've done in your past._

Spike searched the mirror for his reflection. It had disappeared once again. This was too much to handle. He couldn't control the anger. He slammed his bare fist into the mirror and watched as it shattered and the broken pieces fell into the sink and on the counter. Blood dripped from his cut fist and he pulled the pieces of glass imbedded in it out. He washed his hand and wrapped a towel around it. He returned to the larger part of the room where the bed was. He flopped down and returned to his overwhelmed-by-emotions self.

As Andrew was filming Spike, a flash of a motel room and his reflection ran through his brain. He ignored it, he was probably still partially crazy from the soul anyway, so why care? He was better now anyway.


End file.
